


Perfect Friends Whatever

by morphosyntactic



Category: Off Menu with Ed Gamble and James Acaster (Podcast)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphosyntactic/pseuds/morphosyntactic
Summary: "It's not that bad," James says. He can hear the faint note of doubt in his voice, but he has a go at something like an encouraging expression anyway. Ed raises his eyebrows in response, so maybe it doesn't work. James relents. "Well, alright. It's...""Bad," Ed finishes."Not as bad as my first Edinburgh festival," James says. "I've told you about that, haven't I? I just had this tent, and the whole time…""You've told everyone about that," Ed cuts in, but he's smiling now too. "Multiple times. You're fucking ridiculous."
Relationships: James Acaster/Ed Gamble
Comments: 10
Kudos: 59
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Perfect Friends Whatever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mriaow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mriaow/gifts).

"It's not that bad," James says. He can hear the faint note of doubt in his voice, but he has a go at something like an encouraging expression anyway. Ed raises his eyebrows in response, so maybe it doesn't work. James relents. "Well, alright. It's..."

"Bad," Ed finishes.

"Not as bad as my first Edinburgh festival," James says. "I've told you about that, haven't I? I just had this tent, and the whole time…"

"You've told everyone about that," Ed cuts in, but he's smiling now too. "Multiple times. You're fucking ridiculous. But this is almost as bad, that's definitely damp over there."

James looks up at the corner of the bedroom ceiling where Ed's pointing. It's not 'stuck in a field in a tent in the rain' damp, but it's definitely… patchy. Not quite the right colour. "Yeah."

"And it's an airbed."

"Yeah."

"It's _one_ airbed."

"Your observational skills are second to none, my friend."

Ed wrinkles his nose in distaste, then drops his bag on the floor and shrugs. "You're right though. Could be worse."

"You are _shitting_ me!" comes Nish's voice, as though on cue, from the next room. The words are muffled by what sounds an awful lot like the frame of an ancient single bed cracking as someone puts weight on it for the first time since, presumably, last year's festival, and James snorts with laughter as Ed lets out a loud guffaw next to him. 

Maybe they didn't end up with the very worst room in the tiny flat they're all renting for the month after all. 

\--

Much like his first experience of Edinburgh, James isn't sure how he's going to survive -- only instead of being convinced he's about to catch hypothermia and die, he thinks it's far more likely his liver is going to give up the ghost this time around. He can't remember what it's like not to be hungover. 

It's been three days. 

"It's exactly what uni was like," Ed tells him. It's just the two of them in the flat this evening, and pleasantly peaceful -- not that the other guys are especially noisy or intrusive, but it's a small space and James is still very hungover. Spending time with Ed, though, that's easier. They've known each other for a while now; James has always liked him. Ed makes him laugh, which seems obvious, but eases the tension James sometimes feel building up around his shoulders and down the line of his spine.

"I think that would've killed me," James muses. 

Ed shrugs. "You get used to it." He's scrolling through his phone and pauses, passing it across the tiny kitchen table to James. "What about this?"

It's the menu on the website of an Indian restaurant, and nothing about it looks particularly fancy, but the thought of eating something that's not pizza is the best thing in the world to James right now. He makes a low, longing noise, and then pretends that he doesn't notice and isn't embarrassed when Ed raises his eyebrows at him. Whatever -- it's _food_.

"Yes _puh-lease_." 

\--

Ed snores, but quietly, so that's okay.

The crowds laugh, mostly loudly, and that's better.

\--

Sad or not, James hasn’t had cause to get used to sharing a bed with anyone for a while -- let alone an airbed, and especially not with someone who takes up as much space as Ed does. Every time one of them shifts, the whole thing moves, and James is almost getting used to waking up in the night to find they’ve rolled in close together. 

It’s a far cry from Edinburgh in a tent. Ed’s one of those people who is always warm and on those nights he has trouble sleeping, James is aware of all the places their bodies touch. Warm points of contact along his arm, at his ankles, the sharp points of his elbows.

He manages to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom without waking Ed, extracting himself slowly from the covers and padding softly across the room in the dark. Ed’s awake when he gets back into bed though, blinking sleepily.

“Sorry,” James whispers, “didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“S’okay,” Ed mutters, his voice sleep-rough. “C’mere, come back to bed.”

James’ face feels warm too, something hot and pleased in the pit of his stomach as he nods and climbs back into next to Ed. 

\---

They're celebrating. It's been a great run of shows; a great time with great people. James is tipsy and tired and _happy_, like something inside of him has loosened. He's only had a couple of drinks, but the G&T combined with the cold night air has him feeling light-headed for a moment, and he laughs out loud.

"Alright there?" Ed asks from next to him. They're both walking back to the rented flat; his voice is warm. 

"Yeah," says James decisively. "Yeah!"

"Good." Ed knocks his shoulder into James and James elbows him back. Ed laughs, sounding as giddy as James feels. He's loud and intoxicating and James can't look away from his grin and the line of his jaw, sharper than it was back when they first met, and he doesn't know anyone else he'd rather be here with in this moment, and he thinks, suddenly, _Oh_.

Ed steps closer. James doesn't move. He doesn’t move even when Ed’s hand comes up, his fingertips ghosting over James’ throat for a second before curving around the back of his neck.

“Good,” Ed says again, his voice soft, and draws James even closer.

When their lips brush together, James can’t breathe. 

"_Oh_," he says, stupidly. "Well that was." And he stops, because what was it?

Ed blinks. James can see every single one of his dark eyelashes. "Yeah," he says, and James can feel his warm breath; they're still too close, close enough that Ed's breath almost feels damp against James' jaw, his face orange under the glow of the streetlight.

"Er," James tries, and that's even more useless. He doesn't know what he's saying, what they're _doing_ all of a sudden -- except now he does know what they're doing, and what they're doing is kissing. They're kissing again, with Ed's large hand on James' cheek and his lips soft against James'. "Ed," James murmurs, the word getting lost between them, and James sways into him.

"Coming back?" Ed's voice is quiet.

"Don't need to sweet talk me, Ed Gamble," James says, his heart pounding but his voice somehow steady, "we've been sharing that bloody airbed all week."

\--

They have.

But not like _this_.

\--

"Be quiet," Ed says, voice low as he presses the word into James' neck. James only really registers the noises he's been making then, gasps and whines as he hitches his hips up against Ed's, squirming, aware with every inch of his being that he's pinned down against the mattress by the firm weight of Ed's body. "Or the others will hear, they'll be back soon," Ed adds, and James is hot all over with a deep pulse of embarrassment at the thought.

He wants Ed to pin him down like this _forever_. Just lie on him and hold his hands up above his head and kiss him until James melts into nothing. 

"Are you gonna be quiet?" Ed asks -- and god, does Ed expect him to _answer_?

"I will," James whispers, tilting his head up, and Ed rewards him with another deep, wet kiss; and it makes him feel so good that the rest of the words just tumble out of James' mouth before his brain has processed them. "I promise."

"Yeah?" Ed murmurs.

"Yeah," James says, feeling absurd, reckless, half out of his goddamn mind: "I'll be good."

Ed's eyes are dark as he stares down at James. There's a pause, and then corner of his mouth kicks up into a smirk. "Yeah," he says, a promise, "you will."

James doesn’t know what to say to that, but it doesn’t matter. Ed kisses him again, and again, until time slides away from them. James is distantly aware of the sound of someone else getting back, the noises of them moving around the flat. IIt should be terrifying, mortifying -- the idea of anyone else invading this hot, dark refuge they’ve built around them -- but it doesn’t matter when Ed has him naked and stretched out like this. James wants to touch him, feel the hard planes of his chest and the soft skin of his stomach and let his hands drift down further to Ed’s cock, where he’s hard, wet and sticky at the tip, rocking almost absently, against James’ hip. But maybe even more than that he wants Ed to keep holding him down like this, one large hand curled around his wrists, the other around his dick.

“You’re so hard,” Ed says quietly. James’ cheeks are burning, but he nods -- he is, and Ed can feel it, so what else is he meant to say? Ed rubs his thumb over the head of James’ cock, smearing the wet precome around and then giving him a slow, firm stroke. James makes a helpless noise, hips stuttering up to chase the feeling, and Ed grins against James’ collarbone. James can feel it. “For me.”

“Yeah,” he whispers. 

“What do you want?”

“I don’t--” He can’t answer; he doesn’t _know_.

“Want to make you come just like this?” Ed asks, squeezing James’ wrists, his cock, and James nods desperately. Immediately he’s never wanted anything more in his life than this, this very moment: Ed pinning him in place and touching him properly now, strong, steady jerks of his wrist that have James gasping, shifting restlessly, toes curling with how good it feels. 

“You’re so into this,” Ed comments. James can tell by Ed’s voice that he is too; by the way his hold tightens. James tries to lift his arms just a little, just to test the hold Ed has on him, and Ed presses down harder in answer. “C’mon, talk to me.” Ed keeps rubbing up against him, the movement of his hips restless now, less in control. “Can’t get you to shut up normally.”

James laughs breathlessly. “This isn’t -- ah, yeah -- isn’t exactly, uh, normal. _Ed._”

He’s going to-- he wants--

James bites his lip hard enough he thinks it might bleed to try and keep quiet as he comes, fucking up into Ed’s fist as much as he can while he’s held down like this. He spills messily over Ed’s hand, his own stomach, and as he comes back to himself, panting, Ed’s stare is so dark and intense that he has to close his eyes for a moment. 

“Ed,” he whispers. It’s all he’s got left, but Ed gets him anyway -- Ed always does -- and kisses him slow and deep and messy.

“Fucking hot,” Ed murmurs. Then there’s a flurry of movement, blankets tangling around them, and then Ed is straddling him, still staring down with that burning look in his eyes, his thighs thick either side of James’ stomach as he strokes himself now, hard and fast, breathing heavily, the occasional grunt punctuating his pants.

James can’t do much more than stare. His mouth is dry. He swallows, licks his lips, and Ed swears at that so James licks his lips more deliberately. He’s aware, in a distant sort of way, that he probably looks more ridiculous than sexy, but it makes Ed pause just long enough to spit into his hand and then go back to stroking himself faster, the sound of his hand moving on his cock wet and slick in the quiet room. 

“You’re gonna come on me,” James says. It’s more of a statement than it is dirty talk, blurting out the thought as soon as it comes into his head, but it’s true, and it’s _hot_ \-- Ed’s thighs squeeze James’ sides tight and he comes with a groan all over James’ chest. 

Ed is heavy. He’s sitting on James now, but James never wants him to move, even with Ed’s come cooling on his chest. The next few moments are quiet, save for the harsh, heavy sound of their breathing, James’ heart still pounding in his ears. 

Finally, Ed slumps off of him and over to the side. The airbed makes a sound horribly like it might have a puncture. James doesn’t care. 

After a beat, Ed chuckles, nodding at James’ bare chest. “You’re a mess, James.”

James isn’t sure what he was expecting -- awkwardness? A sudden, horrible tension? The ground to open up and swallow him whole? Maybe all of that, but then it is Ed. It’s hardly surprising he just says something stupid that makes James huff indignantly instead. “Because of you!” 

“Yeah, alright. Give me a minute, I’ll clean you up,” Ed says.

“A minute,” James says, “and you better.”

He’ll close his eyes first, though. Enjoy the feeling of Ed pressed up all alongside him, just for a minute.


End file.
